Ghosts of Futures Past
by Laura Schiller
Summary: Coda to "E2". Trip is shocked about Lorian and worried about T'Pol. Jon understands that better than he'd ever admit.


Ghosts of Futures Past

By Laura Schiller

Based on: _Star Trek: Enterprise_

Copyright: Paramount

Captain Jonathan Archer sighed as he spotted his Chief Engineer crawling out of a Jefferies tube in the corridor. If you wanted to talk to Trip these days, the only option was to catch him at work. Jon missed the days when they could sit down in his private dining room with a bottle of bourbon or sprawl on the sofa in his cabin watching a water polo game, but it couldn't be helped.

"Need a hand?" he asked.

"No offense, Cap'n," said Trip, eyeing him skeptically, "But you're no engineer."

"I should be able to hold a flashlight for you without blowing up the ship."

"Okay … " The younger man passed him the flashlight, climbed back into the Jefferies tube, and gestured for Jon to shine the beam towards an open panel inside. "Now I know you've got somethin' on your mind. What is it?"

"I was hoping you could tell me what's on yours."

Trip's shoulders slumped in his sweaty uniform as he began delicately untangling some burned-out cables with a pair of pliers. He didn't speak for a while, but Jon waited, shining the flashlight as steadily as he could, determinedly ignoring the half-dozen other important things he could be doing right now. His friend was important too.

"I always planned on bein' a dad someday, y'know. Once I got the travel bug outta my system, I planned on gettin' a job on Earth, lookin' for the right girl, startin' a family. My first son was gonna be Charles Tucker the Fourth. Lizzie - " For the first time, his deliberately casual voice began to waver. "Lizzie was gonna design a house for us – clean lines, big garden, lots of windows, that was her style. I told you she was an architect, right? I could've done without most of that stuff … the name, the house, even the planet … but there was one thing I never thought I'd compromise on."

"What's that?"

Trip yanked out a cable with what seemed to Jon unnecessary force. "I always thought my kid's mom would feel the same way about me as I did about her. Guess I was wrong."

Jon almost dropped the flashlight. He held it in both hands to keep it steady. He'd known that meeting Captain Lorian would come as a shock, but he'd assumed it would be for quite different reasons. "You're saying you have feelings for T'Pol?"

"Hand me my toolbox, would ya?" was Trip's only answer. But when Jon picked up the small metal case off the ground and handed it up, he caught a glimpse of the younger man's face and saw that his eyes were rimmed with red. That was all the answer Jon needed.

"You told me there was nothing going on between you except a form of Vulcan medical treatment."

He'd been concerned about Trip's being seen visiting T'Pol's quarters every night and the resulting rumors flying around the ship. In retrospect, he really should have guessed there was something going on. But Trip had been so emphatic in his denials, and Jon still remembered a time when the idea of intimacy with a Vulcan would have sounded like a bad joke to both of them. He was ashamed of this, but there it was.

He hadn't even asked T'Pol about the rumors. He'd told himself he respected her privacy too much to insult her that way, but the truth was, he'd been afraid she would say they were true.

Apparently they were.

"It was one time," Trip muttered, scrunching up even tighter inside the small space and keeping his back turned. "But don't worry, Cap'n, we're keepin' it totally professional these days, and there's very little chance of that changin'. I thought it might be the start of somethin', but you know what she called it? An _experiment._"

"That doesn't sound like T'Pol."

Jon thought of how shattered she had been after Tolaris, after Rajin. How much effort it had cost her to confide in him about the bioweapon smuggler they'd hunted down together. She was slow to trust, but once earned, her trust was powerful.

"She's not … I don't believe she'd be with you unless you meant something to her."

"Oh, it sounds exactly like T'Pol." Trip snapped open the lock of his toolbox and began pulling out new coils of cables to replace the damaged ones. They clattered sharply against the metallic walls of the tube. "She's Vulcan, remember? She can turn off her emotions at the flick of a switch. I envy them sometimes. Must make life a hell of a lot easier."

Jon clenched his jaw and looked away, swallowing several sharp retorts. He knew that a lot of this was grief talking, as well as heartache and wounded pride. He knew from personal experience how this toxic combination could make a man say some very foolish things. Still … "Are we talking about the same woman?" he burst out. "You can't honestly still believe that crap, after all these years. If you had any idea what she's been through - "

Trip twisted around to face Jon, wide-eyed. "What's that s'posed to mean?"

"Nothing," Jon said quickly – too quickly.

"She tells you things? _Personal_ things?"

_Promise me, Captain. _T'Pol's remembered voice, rough with suppressed shame and anxiety, rang inside his head. She had made him promise not to tell anyone about the smuggler, or Tolaris, or her Pa'nar Syndrome. He couldn't believe he'd almost broken those promises for a reason as petty as one-upping Trip. The younger man had been her lover, for God's sake. He knew things about T'Pol that Jon could never hope to find out. And besides, why should he even care which of them had more information about her, when all that mattered was looking out for her health?

His science officer's health, he reminded himself. Because he needed her. On the bridge. Because of their mission to destroy the Xindi weapon and save Earth. Nothing else mattered.

"It's not like that," said Jon. "Blame Starfleet protocol. I'm the one who has to read Phlox's reports every time she lands in Sickbay. If it were up to her," he made a failed attempt at a sardonic smile, "She'd let us go on thinking she was perfectly fine … right up until she collapses in her quarters and leaves the Doc with a medical mystery to solve."

That was too close to the truth to be funny. He suppressed a shiver.

"Flashlight, sir," said Trip.

Jon realized he'd swung the beam wildly off-target, leaving Trip to squint through the dim emergency lighting in the panel. He corrected it. "Sorry."

"S'okay." Trip sighed. "Honestly, you're right. I don't believe that crap about Vulcans anymore. It's just easier to think about than the alternative, y'know? I don't like to think of her bein' unhappy. I … I worry about her."

"Me too."

"She's lost weight, d'ya notice? And the way she moves … "

Jon knew what Trip meant. There were hollows in T'Pol's cheeks these days, and her head and hands often trembled. When she spoke, her words no longer flowed evenly like they did with most Vulcans, even those who spoke English; she had to pause and correct herself like humans did. As for her emotional control, it was fraying at the seams. The Expanse had taken a toll on everyone, but its toll on her seemed heavier than most.

"She told me she wasn't … feeling well," said Jon, "Not the details, though … but she assured me she was taking care of herself."

"She'd better be," said Trip, with a grim tone that contrasted with the delicate, cautious way he was handling the cables, sliding each one into its proper place. "Since she sure isn't letting me take care of her."

"She's Vulcan, remember?" Jon quoted the engineer's earlier complaint back at him. "Give her some space."

"If ya say so, Cap'n."

Trip inserted the last wire. The panel lit up bright green, which even to Jon's inexpert eyes looked like a good sign. Trip threw up one hand against the glare, gathered up the discarded cables to stash them in the toolbox for later recycling, and began scrambling out of the tube. Jon gave him a hand down and clapped him on the back.

"I'll tell you one thing, Trip," he said, knowing it would help his friend feel better. "Lorian's a fine captain. Your and T'Pol's counterparts did one hell of a job raising him."

He made sure to say 'counterparts', because as guilty as he felt, he still hoped that particular future wouldn't come true ... and not only for the mission's sake, either. Was it unethical to wish someone erased from existence because you were jealous of his father?

(Lorian was a Vulcan with light eyes and an American accent, who combined a dry sense of humor with a strong gift for leadership, and would do his duty whatever the cost. When Daniels had mentioned the possibility of hybrid children, Jon's imagination had been awfully close to the mark. He even had pointed ears.)

"Thanks … " Trip smiled wryly as he worked a crick out of his neck. "Although I'm not sure I can take the credit."

"Mess hall?" Jon gestured down the hall.

"Ooh, I haven't eaten since yesterday. Ration packs are startin' to look real good." Trip returned his captain's clap on the back with equal strength. "So … how's it feel to be a great-great-granddaddy?"

"Well, I don't feel old enough, that's for sure."

Jon shook his head, which still began to spin whenever he tried to wrap his mind around that fact. Karen Archer seemed like a nice woman, but it still hadn't sunk in that he was related to her, perhaps because they looked so different. He couldn't imagine being married and starting a line of descendants with a woman he hadn't even met yet. Should he try to scan for a species called the Ikaarans, just in case? But that was a silly idea. He had no time for courtship right now. He had a planet to save.

(_Please let it be real, though, _he prayed to whatever forces of the universe might be listening. _For my counterpart and for – what was her name? – Esilia. Please don't let him marry the first random woman he meets just to carry on the generational ship … or out of jealousy over Trip and T'Pol. Please let at least one of me find the right person to share my life with.)_

He thought of what Trip had said earlier, about how he had always hoped that the mother of his future children would love him as much as he loved her. Now he understood.

"D'ya give any wise advice to your descendants?" Trip teased.

"Nah, there wasn't time for that. But if I had, I might've told them not to give up because ... ironic, I know … it's their future we're fighting for."


End file.
